


The Soldier

by Jemima_Puddleduck



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gun Violence, Heavy Angst, John is a Very Good Doctor, Johnlock Angst, M/M, Possible Character Death, Sherlock Is Not Okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 22:04:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9789098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jemima_Puddleduck/pseuds/Jemima_Puddleduck
Summary: As John lays in his arms, dying from a gunshot wound, Sherlock has to be the strong one. He'll have to be the soldier, for John.Short johnlock angst - for the feels





	

The gunshot rang hard in Sherlock's ears and he took no time in springing at his attacker. The wanted man was soon on the ground, his face pressed uncomfortably against the hard concrete of the alleyway. Sherlock straddled his target, cuffed him and quickly wrenched the pistol from his calloused fingers. The man struggled beneath him relentlessly and Sherlock delivered him a swift blow to the head, rendering him unconscious. Sherlock finally left him alone and stood up again. 

"Sherlock." Came a quiet voice from behind him. 

Sherlock turned. Everything stopped. 

John was stood in the middle of the damp alleyway, hunched over and his hand clutched tightly to his stomach. Sherlock felt his breath hitch in his throat as he saw the deep red blood pooling beneath John's fingers. He didn't seem to be in shock. He just looked down at his wound with a serene expression, as if it was nothing more than a paper cut. Sherlock watched as John's footing began to waiver. His friend wobbled slightly from side to side, struggling to stay upright. Sherlock was quick to rush towards him, letting John collapse into his arms. Sherlock's knees complained as they hit the concrete, but he didn't notice. He was too busy staring at John lying in his arms. 

"Okay. Sherlock. I need you to help me." John rasped out, gripping a handful of Sherlock's coat for stability. 

"What do I do?" Sherlock said in a rush, clearly panicking. 

"Just calm down. I'll be fine." John assured him. "Take off your scarf and keep pressure on my wound." 

Sherlock did as he was told, all but ripping the scarf from around his neck. His shaking fingers fumbled in his haste and his breath was suddenly becoming as laboured as John's. As he pushed the blue fabric into the gaping hole in John's stomach his patient let out a small cry of pain. Sherlock's heart almost broke to hear it and he fought hard to hold back the tears stinging his eyes. 

"Now I need you to call an ambulance." John told him calmly, fumbling in Sherlock's coat for his phone and pressing it into his hand. 

Sherlock called for help and rattled off the relevant details, not talking his eyes off John. They assured him that help was on the way and hung up. 

"Help's on the way." Sherlock told John, his voice almost cracking. He put down his phone and took one of John's bloody hands in his for comfort. 

John squeezed Sherlock's shaking palm  to remind him that he was still there, still alive, still breathing. Sherlock didn't say anything and just stared down at him. A few rogue tears spilled over and rolled down his cheeks. 

"John." He choked out. His friend's name the only word left in his throat. 

"It's going to be fine. I can survive this. It will all be just fine." John said, keeping up his collected facade. "Just keep pressure on my wound and stay calm." 

Sherlock nodded at John, not trusting  himself to speak without crying. He had to keep it together for John's sake, but the idea of losing his best friend was dangerously close to pushing him over the edge. Sherlock put up his defences and tried to keep a calm demeanour. He had to be a soldier. For John. 

"Sherlock." John rasped, his breaths becoming shallower. 

"Yes?"

"I can feel myself slipping. You need to keep me awake." John told him. Sherlock instinctively gripped him tighter. 

"How?" Sherlock asked almost pitifully. He was only just keeping everything together. 

"Talk to me." John said simply.

"Stay with me." Sherlock told him gently. The hand that was intwined with John's untangled itself and moved further up to settle on his wrist. The erratic beat of John's pulse fluttered against his fingers. 

"Mmm hmm." John nodded, gritting his teeth through the pain. He shuffled slightly in Sherlock's arms and his knuckles went white with the force of gripping his coat. 

"John please stay awake. For me." Sherlock choked out, nearly crying again.

"I'm here." John whispered. He was beginning to shake now and the words were taking a lot of effort to form. 

"It's okay John. I've got you." Sherlock tried to reassure him. He stayed stoic and strong, despite being on the verge of breaking down. 

"Oh god." Was all John could muster. Suddenly the shock and pain started to become too much for him to bear. The blood was beginning to leak out from under the scarf in Sherlock's trembling hands. 

Sherlock looked up for a moment, blinking back more tears. When he looked back, John was unconscious and his eyes were firmly shut. 

"John." Sherlock said. He didn't respond. 

"John." He repeated more insistently. "John." 

"John!" He cried desperately, willing his friend to open his eyes. 

At the moment, Sherlock finally broke. The stoic exterior he'd kept up for John suddenly crumbled around him and the tears flowed freely down his face. John's grip on his coat slackened and his arm flopped back to his side heavily. 

"John." Sherlock whispered, his voice completely wrecked. "God no. John. Please." 

Sherlock hunched over his friend, his whole body shuddering with great, heaving sobs as he clutched his best friend to his chest. He felt soft, blond hair brush his cheek and his friend's barely-there breath on his face. John's heartbeat only just remained, fading more by the second. There was nothing more Sherlock could do other than hold him in his arms. 

"Come back." Sherlock whimpered through his sobs. "Wake up."

Sherlock didn't notice when the sirens began to roar in his ears. He gripped John tightly, putting up a fuss when the paramedics began to drag him away. He grappled wildly for him when he was wrenched aside, wanting nothing more than to hold him again. He felt hands holding him back and his knees gave way beneath him. The paramedics left him there, swarming around John. Sherlock was shaking all over and his breaths came out in gasps. His hands were covered in John's blood and he pressed them hard into the ground for support, the concrete biting at his palms. A sense of numbness spread through him, making all of his limbs feel heavy and useless. 

John was lifted into the ambulance by the medics and Sherlock spotted his hand dangling from the stretcher. He remembered that hand clutched into the folds of his coat and the image brought more tears. He stood and walked towards the ambulance, almost stumbling on the way. He climbed into the white, sterile van and gazed over the beeping equipment with an empty expression. Unknown hands gently pushed him into a chair, giving him a front row seat as they tried to resuscitate John.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll leave it up to you whether John dies in hospital or not, but I'm guessing most of you will choose the happy ending!


End file.
